


conceptualize

by cloverblob



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverblob/pseuds/cloverblob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root and Shaw share some pillow talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	conceptualize

"Root?" Shaw calls out, staring straight up at the ceiling.

"Yeah?" Root replies tiredly beside her, head already turned in Shaw's direction.

“What does it feel like when you cry?”

Root doesn't reply immediately, not until she processes Shaw's question completely. "Have you never-?"

"Not that I can remember. Never from emotions."

Root pauses a moment to think about it.

It wasn't something she had ever really thought about before. Crying was such a universal human condition that she wondered how Shaw had gone her whole life without it.

“Your chest swells up before you start," she begins, flipping over onto her belly beside Shaw and placing her hands to either side of Shaw's ribcage. Lightly, Root applies a building pressure to her sides. "And then breathing gets a little bit harder, like when you're pushing too hard during a run."

She strokes her thumbs up and inward upon her chest, long fingers attempting to stimulate a feeling that usually came from inside, not out. She struggles to conceptualize something that doesn't exist for Shaw.

"Your throat," she continues, taking one hand and tenderly wrapping two fingers toward Shaw's windpipe. She pushes lightly, but not quite enough to block her breathing. "It hitches, like you've been punched, even starts to hurt a little. Your jaw feels heavy."

She struggles with finding the right words to describe it all, words that Shaw can understand and equate. She lowers her eyes and her hands back down to rest on either side of Shaw's waist.

"The building up of tears is different from all that," she says. "It's different because you feel like you can fight it. You can't fight your hitched throat or weak lungs, but you feel like you can fight the tears; everyone tries to control it. You try to fight it--and some people can--but eventually it becomes too much, and you just... let go."

Shaw turns her head onto an odd side angle to stare down at Root, who now has her head rested upon her bare sternum, facing away. Shaw rests her hand gently on Root's head and strokes her hair softly, wondering if she's finished.

"Sounds painful," Shaw says plainly.

"It is," Root replies with a humourous breath. "It's painful and overwhelming, and then it's over. And when you're finally able to breathe properly, and the tears are wiped away, and your nose is just a little bit stuffy, you feel... released. Your chest and your head feel lighter, everything feels a little less draining. That feeling almost makes the rest of it worth it."

"I can fake crying," Shaw says after a moment, her hand stopping its strokes in Root's hair.

Root cranes her head to look up at her from her position on Shaw's torso. She gazes up at her, but Shaw looks away quickly. Root understands what she's implying. "I don't need you to pretend to feel things you don't, Sameen."

"I know you wish I was normal," Shaw says, her tone almost bitter - toward who though, she isn't sure. "At least sometimes."

Root chuckles and shakes her head in disbelief. The movement of her hair against Shaw's stomach tickles a little, and she shifts uncomfortably. "Where would you get that idea?"

"John."

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, he didn't do anything," Shaw interjects defensively. "He broke up with that woman he was seeing, the shrink. He told me he felt like he was... faking his feelings, and that it wasn't fair to her."

"Sameen..." Root starts, raising herself up onto her elbows.

"I fake things for you all the time."

"I know. I can tell when you're doing it too," Root says sternly. "You're doing it right now."

Shaw doesn't deny it. Little intimate actions, stroking hair, gentle caresses; none of this comes naturally. "You _really_ don't care?"

"People fake emotions all the time. They pretend to feel one way when they feel another. Not you," Root explains earnestly. Shaw looks directly into her eyes, trying to understand the irrevocable faith this woman has in her. "You faking for me, is, in a way, proof that you care."

"What if I don't? What if I've manipulated you? What if I'm just another sociopath using you to get what I want? How would you know?"

"Oh? What is it you want from me exactly?"

Shaw pretends to think about it for a moment, before shrugging and replying simply, "Orgasms."

Root chuckles loudly then carelessly lets her head fall back down to Shaw's chest with a thump, making her grunt involuntarily as the wind is knocked from her. "You're too cute."

"I tell you I'm using you for sex and that's how you reply?" Shaw snarks.

Silence lulls the conversation, sated by the humour between them.

"I don't know how you feel, Sameen," Root says, her tone changing the atmosphere of the room again. "I can't explain the colour blue to a blind man. I can tell him that it's the colour of the sky and of water and that it makes me feel both serene and sad at the same time, but he'll never really know what I'm talking about."

Shaw bites her bottom lip and nods. The analogy is simple enough, and she thinks for a moment that Root is right and she'll never really know what it's like for her to feel.

So they lie there in a comfortable silence again. Silence has always been easy between them; so much talking from Shaw was uncharacteristic in itself. Root wouldn't complain about it though.

"I'm not blind, Root," Shaw says suddenly, breaking the quiet. "You don't need to explain 'blue' to me. You're my blue."

Root shakes her head slightly, a look of confusion on her face tagging along with a smile.

"Like, most people see blue and red and orange and purple, but I only see different shades of red. Except, when I look at you, I see a sort of purple. You look at me and you see blue, Harold looks at Grace and sees blue... you're my blue, but my blue is purple."

Shaw's tempo falters when Root blinks serenely at her, her smile growing ever wider. Shaw bites the inside of her cheek and looks away.

"You know what, nevermind, I don't know what I'm saying."

"Oh sweetie, you have such a way with words."

Shaw grimaces and looks down at her hands.

"I really like purple. Purple is more than enough for me. Blue is just blue, but purple is red too."

Shaw stares at Root for a moment before saying, "Alright enough, this is stupid." And then not un-gently, forces Root's head back down onto her chest again to pretend like she didn't just hear the most ridiculous sentence ever. "Can we stop talking about feelings now?"

"You started it."

Shaw groans. She's right, she did. "It's your fault. If you weren't such a bottom I'd be too tired out to talk."

"I am not a bottom, Shaw," Root replies lazily. "You're just too stubborn to let me really top you."

"I don't trust you down there by yourself," Shaw says airily. "You're kind of a psychopath, you know."

"That's what makes it so exciting," Root says, the pitch of her voice dropping an entire octave. Her hand snakes its way down Shaw's waist, past her hip, to begin kneading the muscle of her thigh.

Shaw bites her bottom lip, and she instinctively moves toward the touch, but makes no attempt to take control of the situation as Root takes a hold of her hand to keep Shaw at bay.

Root begins to trail a set of kisses onto her thigh, when Shaw takes hold of her wrist and breathily lets out, "Wait."

Root sighs and looks up at Shaw with playful impatience. "Yes, sweetie?"

Shaw waits out the expression on Root's face until they're both on the same level, eyes meeting and conveying a shared look of understanding. "Let's just sleep now, okay?"

Root looks surprised but not disappointed as Shaw had expected. After a beat, Root nods and crawls back up and snuggles into her side.

Shaw pulls the covers up over the both of them before turning off the light, and looking down at Root who has already begun to close her eyes. Shaw too begins to settle into a comfortable position around Root's intrusive form, not intimately like Root settled into her - more like she was a pair of sticky pyjamas on a hot summer's night.

"I thought you said you were using me for sex," Root murmurs in the darkness.

"Shut up, Root."

 


End file.
